A/N: I wanted to thank everyone for reading, especially those who reviewed the story. I am going out of town for the next week, and I will not be posting the next chapter for a while. My apologies to Harriet who likes my style of daily updates, but this was a last minute thing.


A note to rabbit and Jinx. It's probably because of Reese. He can be obnoxious.

Also, a note to Em. The new Harry Potter book is supposed to come out in July. I should be ready to start posting before Labor Day. I can't write Malcolm's story until I know what Harry is doing. Sorry.




CHAPTER FOUR: LAST TRAIN TO BREE


As Dewey loaded the cart with the first shipment to be delivered, Galdor took Malcolm aside. "I need to stress certain things with you."

"I know," Malcolm said, "always reject the first offer."

"About other things than carting goods," Galdor continued. "The east grows more dangerous. Be frugal with what you have and be prepared to travel west if danger comes too close. Your new profession is more dangerous than you realize."

"Galdor, from what I heard, it's dangerous everywhere. At least we can do something if trouble comes."

Mainly run.

"You have wisdom about you, manchild. I wish you good fortune."

Malcolm and Reese tied everything down once Dewey was done. The elves continued on their journey west to the Grey Havens, and were long out of sight by this time.

"We've got everything," Reese said.

"Can I rest now?" Dewey asked.

"Quit complaining, Dewey. We still have a long ride ahead of us. Get on the cart. Malcolm, where are we going?"

"Some village about three days north of here. We drop this stuff off and see if we can bring anything back. I made a list of things they need around here."

"I'm trusting you," the merchant called to Malcolm.

"We'll be back within the week," Malcolm assured him. "We'll make good on what we're carrying."

"I'll be honest with you. Almost everything that you carry is something I can afford to lose. The elves told me I could trust you, and I believe them, but I am afraid for you at the same time. There are reasons."

"We'll be fine," Reese said in his quickly rehearsed line, and patted the elvin blade at his side.

"Yeah," Malcolm added, "Dewey was trained by the elves. He can hit his target with a bow, no problem."

"You are sure of yourselves for such a young age," the merchant said. Behind him, barely noticed, two strangers changed their mind about the 'easy target.' Before nightfall everyone in the town knew about the three boys, and their skill with weapons.

*

"You came at a good time," the innkeeper said. "I need everything you brought me."

"There's a question of payment," Malcolm said. "Perhaps we can make a fair deal."

"I'll be as fair as I can," the innkeeper laughed, "but from the tone you use, I think your age belies your experience."

"I am new to the trade but I've always been a fast learner."

"Word has it that you have only been in business for only six weeks."

"Seven, but we've been busy."

"I must ask how travel has been."

"Nothing we haven't been able to handle," Reese said as he put his hand on his sword. The innkeeper marveled at what was clearly an elfin blade. Reese added, "Having Dewey show up with his bow helps out a lot."

"He does look like a young elf," the innkeeper commented.

"And he shoots like one," Malcolm admitted.

We do this everyplace we go. Reese shows off his sword and we both brag about Dewey. We were approached once last week, then they recognized us and apologized. That was cool.

"Part of our bargain will include a meal and a room for the night," the innkeeper demanded. "Everyone will want to hear your news."

*

"That was good," Malcolm said as he drained the mug.

"It is my own invention," the innkeeper bragged. "It is beer brewed from the aromatic roots of trees. It has no alcohol but it does have a pleasant taste."

"What do you call it?"

"I don't have a name for it yet. I simply call it root beer."

"Do you have any barrels for sale?"

The innkeeper grinned broadly at the question. "That you should ask me proves that I have a profitable brew."

"Malcolm, Reese is in trouble," Dewey said as he rushed up to his brother.

"What happened?"

"He's playing cards and he started betting."

"Poker? Reese is worse than Dad at poker. He'll lose in no time."

"He was winning some hands, but now he's betting the stuff we have and I think he's going to lose. You have to stop him."

"Be careful of that dark man your brother is playing cards with," the innkeeper warned, grabbing Malcolm's arm. "He appeared a few weeks ago but he is hard to trust."

"Wish me luck," Malcolm replied, then turned to Dewey. "Get your bow and find a perch."

"Yaaahhh," Dewey shouted quietly, "I get to play."

I hope he remembers what to do.

Malcolm casually walked over to Reese "Good hand?"

"Look at this," Reese said happily, "I know I'm going to win."

"Don't be so confident," the dark man, Bill, said with a sloppy grin as he took a long swig from his beer mug.

"This is cool, Malcolm," Reese whispered. "Bill's been drinking steadily the entire night. He actually folded with a winning hand."

"I know," Malcolm whispered back. "I've been drinking the same thing. It's root beer. You do know that he's been leading you on? What have you bet?"

"Uh, everything," Reese said as he suddenly became nervous, "I bet everything we have against his wagon and two horses."

"The horse and the cart and everything in it?"

"Yeah."

"Reese, you idiot," Malcolm yelled. "These cards are marked. He knows exactly what you have."

Everyone at the table became suddenly alert, and angry.

"I didn't know they were marked," Bill swore. "All of you were there when I traded for this deck. We'll destroy these cards . . . after this hand." Bill then made an exaggerated effort to look to see how the cards were marked while Malcolm mouthed something to Dewey who was perched on one of the rafters.

"I believe him," Dewey called out. He was holding his bow with an arrow notched when he yelled out, "Mister, I'm going to shoot the Ace of Spades in three seconds. One . . . Two . . ."

Bill quickly pulled a card out of his sleeve and threw it on the table. Dewey counted three and shot the arrow, piercing the Ace through the center. "Good choice, mister," Dewey called, as he scrambled down from the support and jumped to the floor.

"Do you really have a wagon and two horses," Malcolm asked Bill, who was now very nervous.

"He came into town with them," one of the other card players said. "Now, I'm wondering how he managed to get them."

"I'll give you back what I won," Bill said hurriedly to the others at the table. "I was only trying to cheat the boy."

"Cheat?" another card player accused.

"Here's the deal," Malcolm said quickly as everyone watched him pull the arrow out of the table. "We'll take the wagon and horses that we won, but since you guys have to deal with good old Bill, maybe you should split everything that's on the table."

"It's a deal," one of the men said as they grabbed Bill and dragged him out the back door.

"We're leaving, right?" Reese whispered.

"Right now," Malcolm agreed. "We're even going to help Dewey load our new wagon."

"Good idea," the innkeeper said. "It won't take long for everyone to realize that you have the lions share. Horses are hard enough to come by, plus the wagon."

"How many barrels of root beer can I get from you?" Malcolm asked as he laid out his offer. The innkeeper smiled. He would make a handsome profit for six Kegs, but he also demanded the arrow as part of the payment.

By sunrise the boys were several miles away heading for Bree, and the arrow was now mounted behind the bar for all the patrons to talk about.

*

Malcolm and Reese had become adept at ignoring most of the travelers they passed. Mostly because they couldn't do anything about it. At least until their return trip to Bree.

"Look at that," Dewey said, "That lady up there tossed away a perfectly good pot."

"It's too much to carry," Malcolm said, "people do it all the time when they, uh, . . ."

I know. We've been picking up all the good stuff we find, but I never saw anyone actually throwing it away before.

"Stop the wagon," Dewey said almost in tears.

"Don't cry Dewey. It'll make them feel bad."

Malcolm stopped the wagon, as Reese pulled up behind him in the cart. The woman they had seen was yelling at a dirty lump lying on the ground. "Get up, Terrin. We can't afford to rest yet. Mika, Paula, wait up."

"Excuse me, Ma'am," Dewey said. "Can we offer you a ride?"

"We don't need charity," The lady swore.

"It's not charity," Malcolm started to say.

"Then WHAT is it?"

"Look, lady," Reese shouted, "we have an empty cart. Do you want a ride or not?"

The lady began to turn red with anger.

Reese jumped off the cart and walked up to the bundle lying on the ground. Picking up the young boy he walked back to the cart and laid him inside. "Lady, if you're strong enough to take him out, you can walk. Otherwise, get your stuff and get your kids and get in."

The lady stared at Reese

As the lady called the rest of her children and loaded them into the cart, Malcolm pulled Reese aside. "That was amazing, Reese. How did you think of doing that?"

"What are you talking about? You wanted to give her a ride. I was just making her take it."

"You did it to be bossy?"

"Yeah, and get this, I bet she can cook. If we supply the food, she and her rugrats can do all the work."

It figures. I didn't think Reese would bother doing something really nice.

"Thank you," the lady said as the cart began to move.

"For what?" Reese asked.

The lady smiled at the teenager next to her. "I would like to earn my way. Would you like me to drive the cart?"

Reese looked nervously at the wagon to see if Malcolm or Dewey were watching. "Please don't tell them you asked," Reese said softly as he handed her the reins.

"I understand," The lady said with a warm smile. "You have a reputation to maintain. I promise that I'll even grumble that you made me drive the cart."

"Thanks, Lady," Reese beamed, "and that bag back there is my lunch, but I'm not hungry."

"I guess I should also complain that you gave us your leftovers. My name's Lois, by the way."

"That's my Mom's name," Reese said with mixed feelings. He leaned back smiling as he closed his eyes for a nap. He was in heaven.

*

"It looks as though you have room," a man called out to Malcolm as the wagon rolled by. "May I purchase a ride?"

"I'm going only as far as Bree, and I don't know where after that."

"It would be enough. I travel to the White Hills, near to the Grey Havens. I have cousins there."

Malcolm looked at the man, the heavy pack he was carrying, and the young boy with him. He motioned for them to get in back of the wagon then asked, "What's your offer?"

"Whatever I have, I will barter with."

"What's that?" Dewey asked.

"The only thing I will not barter. My flute."

The man saw the twinkle in Dewey's eye and smiled. "I see we have a deal." He put the flute to his lips and began to play, much to the boy's delight.

*

The three brothers had become well known in the town of Bree. Of course they were well known as the fools with the cart until they kept returning. Then the locals who were scared took heart and went back to business.

That's why there wasn't anything to trade when we came back this time. What's worse, we didn't have any money, but we had two horses and a real wagon. We were ready to haul, as you can tell.

"I am sorry, boys," the merchant told them, "You kept coming back, and everyone began to feel safe again. All of my regular traders came back."

"And you don't have anything?"

Reese and Malcolm huddled while Dewey tried to listen in. Reese asked the obvious question. "Do you really want to ride around empty?"

"Look, Reese, we have two horses and a wagon big enough to haul a lot of stuff. All we have to do is make a deal for some food. We're eating a lot more than we planned on."

"We can't send them away," Dewey pleaded.

"I think it's worth it," Reese said. "I've been eating better than I did whenever one of us cooked."

I hate this. We're stuck with Hal and his son and Lois and her three children. What's worse they're falling for each other. I don't know why but I feel sorry for the kids. I have to do it. I have to tell them the free ride is over.

Malcolm walked over to tell everyone to get out of the wagon, when Lois happily told him, "It's Terrin. His fever's broken. He's going to be fine."

Damn. Why did she have to say that? What do I do now?

"Is it time for us to part ways," Hal asked when he saw Malcolm's discomfort.

"Uh," Malcolm said clearly.

This is ridiculous. I'm never any good at standing up to people when they're nice.

"We don't have much of a market here," Malcolm said. "We're going to try further west. You're welcome to join us, if you're going that way. We still have plenty of room."

"You are a godsend," Lois said gratefully.

*

"You told them they could stay with us?" Reese was amazed. He was also delighted but would never admit this."

"I didn't know what to do," Malcolm admitted.

"If we had the phone we could call Francis and ask him," Dewey added.

"And if we were home, we could watch TV instead," Malcolm replied.

He walked up to the merchant and asked about supplies. By the time the bartering was finished, the three brothers had enough food to last everyone for a week and the merchant's son had Dewey's boots

"I liked those," Dewey complained.

"Don't worry Dewey. It's stylish to go barefoot. It makes you look rustic."

"Nice try, Malcolm, but you still have boots."

And this really neat cloak. Did I tell you I love this cloak?

Malcolm tossed his cloak over his shoulder . . .

I know. I should stop doing that.

. . . and told Dewey to get into the wagon. "We're going to the Shire."

"That's where Sam comes from," Dewey shouted as he crawled into the wagon.

Reese smiled as he started the horses moving. He was not going to school today, again.

Behind them came the cart, holding Hal, his new wife, and their four children, all grateful for the extended ride toward their new home.

*

"What's the problem?" Francis said into the phone.

"It's like this," Merry told him, "we're stuck outside the door and we don't know the password. The sign says speak friend and enter, but it doesn't tell us what to say."

"It's obvious, Merry. You're supposed to speak the word 'friend.' What's so hard about that?"

"Tell Pippin that. He said I'd sound stupid if I suggested it. I'M telling Gandalf."

"Are you sure, Francis?" Pippin said into the phone.

"I'd bet my life on it."

"Ohhh," Pippin said suddenly, "I have to go."

"Why? What is it?"

"I don't know but it has a lot of tentacles."

Eric came over as Francis hung up the phone. "How's your brother? Did he find his way home, yet?"

"I have no idea. He lost the phone weeks ago. That was Merry asking me to decide a bet."

"Is he the one that gave you that great recipe for rabbit?"

"That was Sam. He offered me gardening tips but . . ." Francis pointed out the window at the three feet of snow, and Eric nodded in agreement.